Patria Amada

I'm sure that all of you have heard me rave about what a great place Brasil is. I just want to take a moment and do more of the same. Can you picture a perfect place? I mean seriously, what would it be like? let me tell you about mine.
It's January and the sun shines almost constantly overhead and, except for the weekly rain of 6 or 10 inches, the sky is a perfect shade of blue. It is around 95 degrees and the humidity is just as high (think about how great your skin would be). Everywhere you go, people stop what they are doing and say hello to you. As you enter the morning farmers market, which is in a different neighborhood every day, you hear the shouts of men and women selling and negotiating prices for every type of fruit imaginable. Now, when I say every fruit, I mean it. From several types of oranges and dozens of species of bananas to the jack fruit, or jaca, which looks like a huge, spiny, watermelon, to mangoes the size of basketballs. Unless you have been there, there is no way to describe the excitement with which the farmer's market, or feira, buzzes.
As you leave the market, having sampled each of the exotic fruits and veggies, you might stop by the man on the street corner selling bb-q and churros. Now, they say that the barbeque meat is beef, but to be on the safe (and correct) side, we'll refer to it a just meat. The churros, unlike the overcooked and bland crap you can get at Molcasalsa, are made fresh right in front of you as you wait. Then, as if rolling the deep fried treat in sugar wouldn't be sweet enough, each churro is then filled with your choice of caramel, chocolate, bavarian cream, or guava. If you're nice, the man may give you a mixture of 2 fillings. The best combination is called Romeo e Julieta, which is cream and guava.
Once your belly is full with this healthy "breakfast", then it's off to the beach. You can see miles and miles of white sand, kissed by saphire waves of the warm tropical Atlantic ocean. Bee on the lookout, though, for nekkid people! Brasilian men, especially the ones that most resemble a fat Chewbaca, love their speedos! Try to be polite and save your looks of horror and your dry heaving for when the man has passed. If you'd like, you can try your hand at the art of the apostles and cast a net into the surf and see if you can catch anything. I was never able to do this because you had to wade into the surf, and, well, duh I was a missionary.
I did, though get to fish in one of the smaller sea ports in a town called Peruibe. The man we went with bought several pounds of shrimp to use as bait and was not leaving until we had used all of it. We got to the point that we were so bored and wanted to go so bad that when he wasn't looking, we threw handfulls of shrimp into the water. We still sat on the rocks for hours and hours.....
After you bust a gut eating almoco (lunch) which consists of black bean stew, rice, kale, bananas, and sugar cane juice, you can go back to the house for a cochila (nap) in the hammock. Nothing beats that. Period.
Night life is cool in Brasil. You will hear the sounds of samba being played loudly in every street corner bar until about 5am. Evening walks in the more inland parts of town are wonderful. Smell the sweet, but mysterious aroma of the noght-blooming Dama Da Noite and watch the neon green fireflies dance in the grass ahead of you.
The people of Brasil are amazing. As a missionary, I really got to know all types of people in Brasil. I met posh-living businessmen, and the poorest people that eeked out a living in a house that stood on stilts to keep the rising tide in the marsh from washing their home away. I met the drug runner who, when we went to his house to meet for the first time, sent his girlfriend to the door to see if it wats the cops. I'm positive that he had killed someone, if not many. I also got to know the zealots of other religions. But despite the huge differences between myself and these Brasilians, they welcomed me into their homes with a warm smile and offered anything they had as a token of our new and everlasting friendship.
I want to tell you about one of the zealots. In my first area, we were teaching a mand named Denis. He was very receptive until one night when we came over to teach. His house had a gate and fence about 500 feet from his front door (as do most homes in Brasil) so we had to clap loudly for him to hear us from inside. His wife appeared at the windo and asked, rather gruffly, who it was and we answered that it was the missionaries. She freaked out! She told us how she didn't believe in what we had to say and that Denis was done listening to us. She demanded that we leave and even went so far as to threaten violence. All of a sudden, amidst a sentence of profanity annd threats, she says, in the most pleasant voice,"we do have some soup left over from dinner. Do you want some soup?" We declined and she immediately reverted to screaming.
This experience served to show how willing the Brasilian people are to give of themselves, even if they have to put off killing you for a few minutes.
When you go to this great place, allow the people to feed you. YOu'll be glad you did. Also, be patient with them, as they love to tease and make fun of those they love, including you.
Finally, pay attention to how the government and police work. Listen to the complaints of the people about the poverty and violence that is abundant in Brasil. Listen to them talk of how hard it is to get a job, how they don't own a car, how they eat beans and rice every day. Listen to your own heart tell you about how wonderful our own country is and how many freedoms and privileges we enjoy just by virtue of being born here. It was in Brasil that I learned how much I appreciate and love our country, despite its occasional political shortcomings. But I will never ever stop loving and thinking of Brasil as my second country. I lived like, talked like, thought like, and ate like a Brasilian. I am Brasilian in my heart and will be forever.

Introducing Irtroductory Introduction

So, you ask, wtf is 'golb semaj'? Is it a strange flesh-eating virus? Is it an obscure island in the Indian Ocean? Is it a god revered by the Aztecs as the bringer of corn? No, sadly it is none of these. It is simply James Blog spelled backwards (this was the most creative name Krista and I could come up with).

With that out of the way, thank you for visiting our first ever blog.

Last night, Krista and I went to one of the bestest concerts ever to grace our planet: Paramore and Jimmy Eat World. There are no words to describe the sweetness of this show, except for, of course, 'Holy Crap".

The bands provided us with their best songs, all delivered through hundreds of speakers turned up so loud that I thought my ears were going to bleed. But that's why you go to a concert, isn't it? That plus to be leaned on, pushed, and groped by some sweaty man standing right in front of you, almost head butting you, and blocking your view with his sweaty noggin, all while maintaining full body (and I mean FULL BODY eeeew nasty) contact throughout the entire concert.

Allow me to elaborate; Krista, through her cunning and charm and impeccable negotiation skills, talked one of the security people into letting us onto the floor. Because we were there a full hour early, we were able to stand at the veeery front of the floor. Anyway, during the entire Paramore set (which was sick (in a good way, Roy)), there was this guy standing right in front of me. He leaned back against me the whole song, but instead of tenderly resting his head on my shoulder and whispering sweet nothings into my ear, he put his fat, sweaty head right in front of my face, blocking my hard-earned view. So, just imagine a hot, sweaty room and this dude leaning back against me for like an hour. Needless to say, enough was enough, so on the last 2 songs in the Paramore set, I decided to make this guy's life completely miserable.

As soon as she started with her fist pumping chorus, I leaned as hard as I could into Mr. Sweaty Lean and started jumping and dancing like a crazy person. He was stunned. With his comfortable, albeit inconsiderate, resting place unearthed, he had nothing to do but shoot me furtive glances of contempt and, at times, horror. The guy finally left after the set, defeated.

We thoroughly enjoyed the Jimmy Eat World set as well, except for a girl trying to shove us away from our well-earned spot so she could be in front. It's a story for another time, but it sufficeth me to say that she got hers....and left us alone.

Besides the wildlife, the artists themselves were amazing. I've always had a deep appreciation for music, being a musician myself, and I know Krista feels the same. Never heard of these bands? Look them up. I strongly recommend them.

Anyway, hope you've enjoyed my rambling about the best concert featuring the best bands ever. Please feel free to post any comments and or questions.

Oh, and also remember that I do own a real estate consulting company called the Matt James Group. I always have time for my friends, their family, and their neighbors to assist in all of their real estate needs. I'd appreciate your help in growing my business by referring me to them, and using my services yourselves, despite the pressure that your parents put on you...

Cheers,

Matt